Just Let It Go {Superntural oneshots}

DREAM A LITTLE DREAM OF ME

"Stars shining bright above you, night breezes seem to whisper 'I love you'. Birds singing in the sycamore tree, dream a little dream of me. Say 'Night-ie night' and kiss me. Just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me. While I'm alone and blue as can be, dream a little dream of me. Stars fading but I linger on, dear, still craving your kiss. I'm longing to linger till dawn, dear, just saying this. Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you. Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you. But in your dreams, whatever they be, dream a little dream of me."

-Cass Elliot

}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{

Dean couldn't understand why Cas had been so... temperamental lately. Sure, they just had a huge fight, and Cas had PTSD. Of course he wouldn't feel the same for a while, but it's been a month now. Maybe he has another disorder, but with all the meds he takes, Dean couldn't think that was possible. He had tried to answer questions on online tests for Cas, but Cas wouldn't tell him anything, so Dean couldn't answer many questions. Cas hasn't even been home that much lately. It's like he's been avoiding Dean. They don't even talk much at dinner. Just small talk like How was your day? How was work? Anything new? and always short answers like yes or no. Dean missed having conversations with Cas.

Cas mostly was down the street at the little bookstore he loved so much. It had a Starbucks too, and he would never have to leave. But they close at 7:00, and he knew he would have to go home sometime. Dean would begin to worry, and the they would most likely have another fight, setting off his PTSD again. Cas knew it had been getting worse lately, but he couldn't take any more medication for it. He already had enough to stock a pharmacy. His flashbacks have been worse, too. Ever since Cas came home from Iraq, he had felt very secluded from every day life. He only spent his time in that bookstore or at home, but not much time at home. He also didn't want to confront Dean ever since the fight a month ago. Was it really a month ago? That's kind of a long time to not speak to someone, he thought. It didn't matter, though. Dean knew about his condition. Dean had been the one to take Cas to the doctor in the first place. Even he didn't want Cas to take any more meds. It's a wonder he hadn't died from overdose yet.

Cas had been thinking about it, though. A way out. A way to end all the pain. All his suffering. Maybe he wasn't meant to stay here. But if he did die, Dean wouldn't be the same again, either. he didn't want Dean to go through what he has to.

}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{

Two weeks later, Cas and Dean started talking again. Cas started to feel better because of this, but he didn't feel all the way better. Like his happiness battery wouldn't recharge. His dreams had now become affected by his time in Iraq. The one place he actually felt somewhat safe, gone. His life has been overrun with sadness and devastation and sorrow. Cas has flashbacks everyday now, but he learned to control them. Sort of. It doesn't put his mind at ease, but he can control his face to make himself look emotionless. And even though he shares a bed with Dean at night, Cas still cries himself to sleep every night. Dean knows about this, but can do nothing to make Cas feel better. He never was good with the mushy, lovey-dovey stuff. He doesn't think Cas even wants to bet better anymore. It's like he just gave up.

Today, Dean came to the bookstore with Cas to see why he loved it so much. It was quiet, which allowed him to read in peace. And there weren't many people in there. Maybe one or two besides the people who worked there. When they came in the door, the woman at the desk greeted Cas by name, and Dean found out that her name was Erin. She had long blonde hair tied up in a ponytail, dark brown eyes, and very pail skin. She seemed to be in her mid-twenties. Cas said she was there everyday, and sometimes they would have coffee together at the Starbucks and talk about a book. Dean was glad that Cas had a friend.

Cas kept books on hold, the ones he was currently reading anyway, and the ones he would eventually read again he would buy. Dean saw Cas come home one night with at least ten books in each hand. "I think you are the store's main source of income." Dean had said to him. Cas just smiled, and brought the books into their library. Yes, they had a library in their small apartment. They converted the guest room into one after they had to expand the book shelf three times. Who needed guests, right?

}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{

Cas heard the bullet flying through the air. He saw the flash of fire as it came out of the gun. He saw his only friend here, Adam, fall on the ground. He saw the blood pool around his limp, lifeless body. He felt his own body go numb. He felt the tears well up in his cold eyes. He couldn't move his feet no matter how much he desired. He saw the others swarm around Adam's dead body. He had to be dead now. He lost so much blood. Cas saw another bullet. He felt it pierce through his stomach. He felt the searing pain, and put his hand there to try and cease the blood flow. It didn't help much, but it helped some. The other people in his squad came to him, while two others stayed with Adam to take his body away. They lifted him up and took him to the infirmary. He woke up a week later, his stomach having five stitches, but bullet-free. The tent around him had burned down, and was still in bright orange flames. There were only five survivors. Victor Henriksen, Bobby Singer, Bela Talbot, Dean's brother Sam, and himself.

Cas woke up screaming. Dean didn't really know how to comfort him. Dean wrapped Cas in his arms, stroked his hair, and whispered shhh until Cas calmed down. When he finally did, Cas got one of his many books from beside his bed and reads. he doesn't sleep until the next night. he was very quiet the next day. That was a sign to Dean. Usually, Cas made some kind of noise, whether it was his breathing, or the sound of his book's page turning every so often. But there was absolutely no sound. Then his breathing got very heavy. Dean immediately put Cas in the car and drove to the hospital. In the passenger seat, Cas had his legs curled up to his chest, and was rocking back and forth ever so slightly. His breathing and heart beat got faster and faster.

Dean finally got to the hospital, but had to carry Cas in. Within minutes, he was admitted, but Dean had to stay in the waiting room. He was pacing back and forth for about an hour while the doctors did tests on Cas's brain and asked him questions, to which he probably wouldn't answer. The doctor said he did have a panic attack. The worst they had ever seen. Finally, Dean was allowed to see him. Instead of doing so, he went back home to get some of Cas's favorite books. He especially liked: 'Adventures of Sherlock Holmes' by Arthur Conan Doyle, '20,000 Leagues Under the Sea' by Jules Verne, 'Gulliver's Travels' by Jonathan Smith, 'Journey to the Center of the Earth' by Jules Verne, 'War and Peace' by Leo Tolstoy, and 'The Man Who Would Be King' by Rudyard Kipling. The adventure sense of it all seemed to calm Cas down. Even Cas himself knew this, and maybe that was part of why he liked them so much. Dean went into Cas's room, books in hand.

"Be honest with me. Are you ok?"

There was a long pause.

"No."